


A Revelation

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya returns home and Jon realizes how he treats his sisters is different, F/M, Jon has a teenage girl moment, Jon knows nothing, Sansa knows nothing, Some angst, Sweet, Unrequited Love, hopeful, then Jon knows something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt on Tumblr:<br/>cruyffsbeckenbauer asked:<br/>Could you write something angsty where Jon realizes he loves Sansa differently once Arya returns?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Revelation

Jon noticed it the first night Arya had returned to them. After a long, emotional day of catching up with their sister, Jon and Sansa ended up where they always did at the end of the day. In her solar, sitting before the fire and going over all that Arya had told them of her experiences. 

This was routine now, discussing their day and the goings on in Winterfell before the fire before either of them retired to bed. Sometimes they just wanted to catch up, often times they sought advice about one matter or another. 

And, they would share an ale during these discussions. Jon knew Sansa was perfectly capable of polishing one off herself as he was, but ever since she’d returned to him at Castle Black, this is what they did. They talked and shared ale. 

When he got up to head to his bedchamber, he bent to kiss the top of her head and thought, _Did I kiss Arya good night?_

No. He’d ruffled her hair and grinned at her, but he hadn’t embraced her or kissed her in some brotherly fashion. 

_Is kissing Sansa on the top of her head every night really brotherly?_ he wondered. _Why wouldn’t it be, though?_ he then argued with himself. Brothers and sisters show affection all the time like that. 

Yet, thinking back, he couldn’t ever remember Robb doing much of that sort of thing, and certainly not every night. 

Robb probably didn’t also take a moment to inhale the scent of lavender in Sansa’s hair either. 

Suddenly, Jon wasn’t so tired. He was wide awake, he was… _aware_. Aware that something was different, and that something had been different for quite a while and he was just now realizing it. He lay in bed that night staring up at the ceiling and going over his interactions with Sansa as of late and wondering where he might have perhaps not acted exactly as a big brother would. 

xxxxxxxx

The next morning over breakfast when Jon attempted to kiss Arya on the top of the head as part of a good morning greeting, it felt wrong. Arya looked at him rather strangely too. Sansa, who was busy buttering his toast for him didn’t seem to notice. But when he passed by her, she tilted her head to the side, offering up her cheek, and Jon didn’t hesitate. He kissed it as he did every morning and stopped in his tracks behind her. 

He stared at the wall, heat suffusing his cheeks. 

“Jon?” she said gently. “Are you all right?”

He nodded hastily took his place at the table. He dared a glance at Arya and found her watching him with eyes narrowed. 

_Shit._

xxxxxxxx

When it was time to break for luncheon that afternoon, Jon’s first thought was that he needed to wash up or Sansa would make him sit at the end of the table. When he passed by a lone winter rose in bloom he smiled to himself and thought how Sansa would love it. He plucked it for her and considered how to present it to her as he made his way up to his solar. Should he simply show it to her or perhaps hide it behind his back and—

He stopped abruptly in the hallway and cursed. 

xxxxxxx

This went on for a week. Jon noticing little things he did regarding Sansa that was perhaps things a lover would do, but not a brother. What brother would rub her sore feet after she’d spent the day running about trying to make Arya’s bedchamber welcoming and homey for her? What brother sat beside his sister with his arm around her and his nose buried in the hair at her temple when her demons caught up with her and she needed to be held? What brother grew tongue-tied when his sister looked particularly beautiful one day?

When he had the revelation that he could not do these things with Arya – when the thought of it actually made him _recoil_ – Jon knew he was in trouble. 

And then, of course, it was Arya that gave all this a name when she said point-blank one day when they were alone: “You’re in love with Sansa, aren’t you?”

Love.

With Sansa. 

_Love._

Surely not. He couldn’t be. She was his sister! That’s what Jon told Arya. 

Arya shook her head. “No, Jon. You’re not her brother. You’re her cousin. Remember?”

Jon sighed. He did remember. But saying she was his sister kept him from crossing that line, that line he nudged and pushed at, but never crossed. It kept him safe, kept him from doing something stupid like take her in his arms and kiss her sweet red lips—

Bloody buggering hell. 

Arya had slapped him on the back then. “It’s a bit odd seeing as how we were all raised as siblings, but you and Sansa were never close and honestly, Jon…after all we’ve been through, after all the death and after losing so many of us…who am I to judge? If it makes you feel any better, she feels the same way.”

Jon cursed himself for how fast his head had whipped towards her and how his heart felt as though it had tripped over itself. “Did she – how do you know that?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “She didn’t say anything, but it’s so obvious, Jon. Just as it’s obvious how you feel about her.”

She’d left him to contemplate this. Jon sat down on an empty barrel of oats in the stables and had himself a good brood over this one. 

xxxxxxxx

Sansa fussed over him when he hurt himself. She smiled when he entered the room, and sometimes Jon had the distinct feeling she waited for him to enter a room due to how her eyes were the first he saw when he did. She left him lemon cakes – of which she typically coveted for herself – when a new batch was made. If she left the room first, she would kiss the top of his head. She rubbed his shoulders at night when he was particularly stiff from training. And she _made_ him things. He was always dressed in clothes she’d made and mended. It sometimes felt like an added layer of protection knowing that Sansa had made something with him in mind. 

She did not act like a sister – no. Cousin. She was his cousin. And it was high time he acknowledged that. 

It was high time he acknowledged a lot of things. 

Such as how he loved her. 

Oh, Gods, he _loved_ her. 

Now that he knew it, now that he _acknowledged_ it, he felt his heart soar every time Sansa was near. He paid close attention to her smiles. She definitely had smiles that were just for him. He allowed himself to tease her more and sought to make her laugh any chance he got. The sound of her laugh made him feel ten feet tall. He looked for everything and anything that would make her happy. It was all he wanted. Sansa happy.

And Sansa with him always. 

When the letters started to come from the Queen, suggesting that alliances needed to be made, Jon knew he had to do something. He could not and would not watch Sansa marry someone else. And he certainly couldn’t marry someone else either. He wanted Sansa for his own. He wanted the right to hold her, kiss her… _make love_ to her. 

When he allowed himself to get lost in that particular fantasy…well, it was a good thing his door locked. 

So, one morning after they’d broken their fast, Jon asked Sansa if she would meet him in the Godswood in an hour. She agreed, looking at him in question. He gave nothing away, just kissed the top of her head and left. 

He rehearsed what he was going to say. How he would tell her was in love with her and had been for quite some time. He was nervous and excited at the same time. He thought he might toss up his accounts. Then he heard her soft footfalls approaching and he turned to face her, his back to the Weirwood Tree. 

She was a vision in blue, making her Tully blue eyes stand out. And her hair pulled back in the Northern style and falling over her shoulder made Jon want to run his fingers through it. 

“Jon? What is it?” she asked, sounding quite concerned. “Is everything well?”

He stepped forward, his heart racing. “Sansa, there’s something I have to tell you.”


End file.
